


Look how long this love can hold its breath.

by bacchusofficial



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, M/M, Sharing a Bed, i just want my boys to be happy, i mean they aren't but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 05:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13206636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bacchusofficial/pseuds/bacchusofficial
Summary: "Jacobi," came Kepler's quiet, low voice through the darkness. "Your elbow is in my throat.""You're awake?" Jacobi hissed, heart in his throat. What the fuck. It was, like, 2am. Couldn't Kepler sleep like a normal person, and leave Jacobi to do his stupid pining alone in the darkness?





	Look how long this love can hold its breath.

**Author's Note:**

> i just wanted to have nice things for this fucking ship so here it is, as nice as these idiots can be. god bless and happy new year everybody!

Sometimes—rarely, but the occasions did arise—they could be in love, like regular people.

At least, they could be what Jacobi imagined being in love was like. He didn't think he knew, for sure. How could he?

He rolled over in the hotel bed and found a warm body under his arm, and he froze.

It was the middle of the night. He'd forgotten they only had one bed. He kinda tried to block it out of his mind, really. It was better that way—

"Jacobi," came Kepler's quiet, low voice through the darkness. "Your elbow is in my throat."

"You're awake?" Jacobi hissed, heart in his throat. What the fuck. It was, like, 2am. Couldn't Kepler sleep like a normal person, and leave Jacobi to do his stupid pining alone in the darkness?

"I am now that you've tried to assassinate me in my sleep."

"Oh, please, don't be so fucking dramatic, I was just getting comfortable. It's your fault we only have one bed." Tugging his arm back into his own personal space, Jacobi lapsed into annoyed muttering, "stupid-hotel-stupid-bed-stupid—"

" _Hey_ ," said Kepler, and though he was quiet, the command in his voice still made Jacobi flinch, and shut up.

The mattress shifted as Kepler rolled onto his side, and a warm arm slung over Jacobi's waist. His breath hitched, but he didn't say anything, didn't want to do something wrong and ruin everything—the thought made him laugh, quiet, helpless. That was how it always went, wasn't it?

Jacobi was still on his back, staring at the ceiling, reveling in the heat radiating off of Kepler. It was nice now, but it would get annoying soon—the guy was like a fucking furnace, it was ridiculous—

"Jacobi," said Kepler.

"What?"

"Stop thinking so much."

"What—"

"Just..." Kepler trailed off, tucking his face into the crook of Jacobi's neck and shoulder. Jacobi could feel the scratch of his stubble on his bare shoulder, could feel his lips move as he said, "Just go to sleep, alright?"

"Alright," said Jacobi, but his eyes stayed wide open. What was he supposed to do? Kepler, his boss, who he'd watched stab some guy to death not five hours ago, had an arm around Jacobi like he was trying to protect him from—from what? The ceiling fan? The most dangerous thing in here was Kepler himself, and wasn't that a thought. Warren Kepler, weapon of mass destruction, making Jacobi get all those fuzzy feelings people talked about in movies and shit.

They didn't do this.

They didn't act like they were in love. They just... were, Jacobi guessed. Jacobi did whatever Kepler wanted, and looked at him like he hung the moon (which, actually, he may have), and Kepler, every once in a while, threw a smile Jacobi's way that wasn't 100% evil. That's how it worked. That's how it had to work. So what was Kepler—

"You're still thinking." Kepler sounded the same kind of annoyed he would be if Jacobi had done some minor fault during a mission, but his arm tightened around Jacobi and those fuzzy feelings were back by the billions, the stupid things.

"What the hell are we doing, Warren?" Jacobi asked the ceiling, barely above a whisper, barely moving his mouth. He thought maybe Kepler hadn't heard him, because the Major remained still for a long while, and good, that was probably for the best, because the more Jacobi thought about it, the more embarrassed he felt—

Kepler pushed himself up so he was propped on one elbow, reaching up with his other arm to grab Jacobi's chin and gently tilt his head so they were face to face.

"Making the best of what we've got," he said, almost against Jacobi's lips. "Right now, we have this. Tomorrow, we won't. So enjoy while it lasts, and go—" A kiss; soft, small, matter-of-fact. "—the hell—" Another kiss, this one to the corner of Jacobi's mouth; Jacobi tried to follow his lips. "—to sleep." One last, under Jacobi's jaw, and Kepler returned to his original position, face buried in Jacobi's neck, arm wrapped protectively around him. 

Jacobi sighed, wriggling into a new position—to Kepler's furious protests ("What did I  _just_  say—")which ended as soon as Jacobi was tucked on his side facing Kepler, with Kepler's head against his chest and Jacobi's fingers carding through his hair. 

"Mmm," hummed Kepler, like a cat, relaxing into the touch. Jacobi smiled, and they finally drifted off to sleep. 

 

The next morning, when Jacobi blinked his eyes open and groaned at the sun through the open blinds, Kepler was already up and cleaning their guns. The suitcase—they only had one, there was no reason to carry two when they could both fit their clothes in one, (and when they packed their clothes together, Jacobi had discovered, sometimes they smelled like each other)—was already packed up and zipped on the floor, but Kepler had left out a set of clothes for Jacobi at the foot of the bed. 

"It's about time you got up," said Kepler, with his usual annoying enthusiasm for mornings. "I was afraid I'd have to give you a wake up call." 

Jacobi groaned, shoving his head in the pillow. Kepler's wake up calls were the stuff of nightmares. He shuddered just thinking about it.

The pillow still smelled like Kepler's shampoo, and Jacobi felt something wrench in his gut before quickly sitting up and running a hand through his hair. 

He thought he saw Kepler looking at him, and his suspicions were confirmed when, when Jacobi turned his head to meet his eyes, all of Kepler's attention was focused on cleaning a Beretta. Kepler never let Jacobi see him looking at him, but by now Jacobi had learned all his tells. 

He forced himself to stand, grabbed the stack of clothes, and started to the bathroom. 

"Hurry up, Jacobi," Kepler called after him. "We're leaving in thirty minutes, to the second."

"Yeah, yeah," Jacobi called from the bathroom. 

"What was that?"

Jacobi smiled, tugging the t-shirt on. It was one of Kepler's. "Yes, sir!"

"That's what I thought you said." 

Sometimes—rarely, but the occasions did arise—they could be in love, like regular people.

**Author's Note:**

> title from "Your Love Finds Its Way Back" by Sierra DeMulder


End file.
